


Hold On (I Still Need You)

by blondsak, seekrest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (but let's be real when don't we), Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Worried Tony Stark, defenestrating canon as one does, we put the boys through it in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: Peter groans, trying to open his eyes - immediately regretting it as he blinks, feeling dizzy as he looks around.The windshield is cracked, the steering wheel a broken mess - Peter slowly lifting his head away from the driver’s side window only to blink at it for a few moments - his mind taking a few seconds too long to recognize that the stained red of the glass had come from him.Or:Over a year after the events of Endgame, Peter decides to surprise a still-recovering Tony with a winter weekend visit to the cabin-- only to crash, ending up badly injured and succumbing to the elements.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 286
Kudos: 683





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [S0lstice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/S0lstice/gifts).



> Happy birthday to S0lstice, one of our favorite irondad writers and a simply awesome human! We hope you have a wonderful day and that you enjoy this humble offering of hurt/comfort and protective Tony <3
> 
> Will update every other day.

“Peter, are you sure you want to--”

“I’ll be _fine,_ May,” Peter says, laughing as he zips up his backpack and heads out of his bedroom, smiling as May looks out the living room window. 

“It looks terrible out there, Pete,” she says, moving the curtain away before turning back to face him, arms folded as she studies him up and down. “And _that_ ,” she unfolds her arms to gesture towards the thin sweater he was wearing, “is not nearly warm enough to--”

“May,” Peter says, playfully rolling his eyes as he walks up to her, “Stop worrying. I’ll be fine, look,” he shifted the bag so he could zip it open, showing some of the hoodies he’d specifically packed for this exact scenario when he says, “I’ll be set. Plus, you know Tony’s cabin is not an _actual_ cabin right.”

May makes a face, Peter zipping up the backpack once more before he grins. “You worry too much.” 

Her shoulders sag, unfurling her arms completely and beckoning him into a hug, Peter wrapping his own arms around her waist, burrowing her head into her neck as she sighs. 

“That’s my job, kiddo,” she whispers, squeezing him tight before letting him go, bringing his head into her hands as she smiles - Peter returning it as she continues. “I just want to be sure you’re safe out there. Driving in the snow is--”

“Dangerous, I know,” Peter replies, May playfully nudging at his cheek as he swings the backpack in his hand back around his shoulder, nodding towards the window. 

“I asked Karen and she said the storm was heading in the opposite direction anyway.”

May doesn’t seem convinced, her eyebrows furrowing as Peter pushes forward. “I’ll call you when I get there okay? Promise. I just,” Peter fiddles with the strap of his backpack a little, “I think Mr. Stark needs this.”

He waits for a beat. “I’ll miss it, you know?” 

That gives May pause, knowing as well as Peter did that a surprise visit up to the cabin to see Tony would be the kind of thing Peter _wouldn’t_ get to do in a few months. 

Getting accepted into MIT had been cause for celebration, Peter still remembering how excited he’d been when he heard the news. 

Tony had been just as thrilled for him as May had, joking with Peter about how much weight his recommendation letter had held as Peter had laughed him off. 

Even if the idea of leaving May, Tony and everyone else behind when he moved to college was still months away - Peter chewed the inside of his cheek, knowing that Tony would be the one who would take it the worse. 

He was already up at the cabin alone because Pepper and Morgan had gone on a family vacation to a national park with the rest of Pepper’s family - a trip that Tony hadn’t been able to attend because of his slow recovery and yet had encouraged them to do so all the time. 

Since the world had been made right again, Tony’s recovery hadn’t been as seamless and everyone hoped it would be - Tony working harder than Peter thinks he’s ever seen him on his physical therapy and yet still struggling to regain even a semblance of his previous strength and range of motion.

It could be worse, something Tony himself had jokingly said more times than Peter could count - Peter’s mind always going back to those awful moments on a battlefield upstate when it seemed like the longest day of Peter’s life would end up being one of the worst.

Yet as Peter fiddled with backpack strap again, shifting his weight back and forth - he was determined, recognizing that for as thankful that Tony was that everything was made right - made _whole_ \- that their lives were drastically different from what they had been before the snap, not even considering the five years that they’d lost. 

“I just think this’ll be good for him you know?” Peter begins, seeing the way May’s expression softens - running her thumb across his cheek once more as he continues. “I know he says he doesn’t mind when I stay here on weekends to spend time with you or MJ or on patrol but--”

“He misses you. How it _used_ to be,” May answers, Peter nodding - glad that she understood, remembering a prior conversation from someone who had been blipped that she’d mentioned over dinner.

Everyone was objectively thankful that half the world had returned. But even after a year, it was clear that the readjustment period was emotional just as much as it was physical. 

“Yeah,” Peter says, smiling back at May who presses a kiss to his forehead before sighing, Peter taking that as permission to leave as her eyes narrow, a finger pointed towards him.

“But you call me the _minute_ you make it there. It’s not just the snow I’m worried about, it’s the ice.”

Peter smiles, turning towards the door and grabbing the keys from the counter before he looks back over his shoulder.

“I will May, promise,” he grins. “I’ll be fine.”

* * *

Peter’s fingers tap nervously against the steering wheel, instinctively leaning forward as the windshield wipers continue to furiously move back and forth.

He shivers, fiddling with the heat again as he sighs - half-regretting not taking May’s car in for a check before he’d decided to drive in this weather.

The heat had gone out about an hour into his trip, Peter glancing at the GPS on his phone to see that he still had another thirty minutes to go. He knew the drive up to the cabin like the back of his hand yet the snow storm - the one that May had been worried about and that Karen had estimated would move away from them - was coming down relentlessly, a mix of sleet and snow that further set off Peter’s nerves.

He didn’t have a lot of experience driving and even less so in the snow, thinking that maybe May’s concerns hadn’t been entirely unfounded as he absentmindedly flips through radio stations. 

Some pop song from an artist who’d become famous during the blip comes on, a song that annoyed MJ anytime she heard it which only serves to make Peter laugh - leaving it alone as gripped the steering wheel once more, the song playing throughout the car as the windshield wipers continue to move furiously back and forth. 

Hearing the song reminded him why he was going out here in the first place, remembering how Tony had sounded the first time Peter had rescheduled a visit up to the cabin to spend time with MJ and Ned. 

Peter could hear the disappointment in Tony’s voice no matter how much he’d tried to hide it, yet still going through with his plans because he got the sense that Tony would be more upset if he didn’t. 

It was something May had mentioned off-hand, a joke when Peter had turned seventeen about how he was growing up and moving on - something that Peter felt conflicted about, _especially_ when thinking about Tony and the five years that he’d spent mourning Peter. 

Tony has Pepper and Morgan but Peter knew his place in Tony’s life, the relief and the tight hug he’d given him on that battlefield a fond memory now - a gateway into the easy affection that Peter hadn’t ever known from the man before. 

For as excited as Peter is for his life and for his future, there’s a part of him that misses how simple his life used to be - how simple the _world_ used to be. 

It can’t ever go back to that, nor did Peter really _want_ it to - but as he leans forward even more, squinting his eyes to try and see beyond the snowstorm that continued in front of him, Peter thinks that this surprise trip will be exactly what he and Tony need. 

A reminder that no matter what happens, no matter how much life changes - that they could still enjoy quality time together just the two of them. 

Peter feels the familiar itch in the back of his neck, tensing even more so. Something is wrong, though what Peter couldn’t tell what - wondering if his senses were just going into overdrive because of the storm or because of his relative inexperience. 

The snow is coming down even harder, Peter squinting when he sees something in the distance - only to freeze when he realizes it’s a group of deer.

Instinctively he presses on the brakes, a half-second later immediately regretting the decision as he frantically turns the wheel - hearing May’s voice in the back of his mind of what _not_ to do only for it to be too late, the car barely avoiding hitting the deer only to skid across the road - Peter feeling a sharp rush of terror in his chest as he tried to gain control of the vehicle.

It was sudden, his panic causing him to break the steering wheel in his grip as he tried to right himself - the car skidding across the slippery pavement even more as it turns, a massive tree off the side of the road coming closer and closer. Time seems to suspend then, Peter feeling like he’s moving in slow motion - knowing what’s coming and yet being powerless to stop it. 

Before Peter can even think to react, time speeds up again - the car flying over the side of the road and hitting the tree _hard._

At the impact, Peter’s head snaps against the window and instantly he falls into darkness. 

* * *

Peter doesn’t know how much time has passed when he finally comes to, the cold creeping all around him as he groans - his eyelids feeling like they’re weighted down, trying and failing to open them as he winces.

His head is pounding, feeling the hot and sticky liquid pouring down over his eyebrows - a part of him registering that he was bleeding but from where, he wasn’t sure. His whole body aches as he tries to move his fingers and his toes, an instinctual injury check from the variety of mishaps he’s had over the years.

His fingers move just fine but Peter can’t move his left leg, feeling it wedged tightly against the under the dash - wondering if it was broken or if it was just cramped in from hitting the tree so hard and so fast. 

Peter groans again, trying to open his eyes - immediately regretting it as he blinks, feeling dizzy as he looks around.

The windshield is cracked, the steering wheel a broken mess - Peter slowly lifting his head away from the driver’s side window only to stare in confusion at it for a few moments - his mind taking a few seconds too long to recognize that the stained red of the glass had come from him. 

Peter’s hands are still shaking, though whether it’s from the adrenaline of what happened or from the cold he’s not sure, slowly turning his head to search for his phone - his mind and his vision working against him as he leans his back against the headrest in defeat, not seeing it within reach. 

He blinks a few times at the passenger side before shifting his head back towards the windshield and to his leg, making a feeble attempt to move it only for the throbbing pain in his head to return in full force.

He’s had enough concussions in his life to know what one feels like - though after bringing a hand to his face and feeling the blood drip down as he catches some of it with his fingers, Peter knows that the head wound can’t be the only cause for him to feel as sluggish as he does. 

It’s like crawling through mud, the simple act of bringing his hand down exhausting. He tests moving his leg again only to realize now how much he’s shivering, the cold he’d felt earlier magnified even more so from however long he’s been stuck and from the gash on his forehead - a perfect storm of events. 

Peter lets out a huff at his bad joke as his eyes flutter, looking out through the cracked windshield in front of him as he tries to focus - finding it harder and harder to do so.

He needs to move or at least figure out where his phone is but it’s as if even _thinking_ of moving is a sisyphean task, feeling dizzier each time he blinks.

Peter closes his eyes for some relief, only to feel the cold wrap around him like a warm blanket - distantly aware that he shouldn’t fall asleep but being unable to stop it, his breathing beginning to slow as his head continues to throb. 

* * *

Time starts to have a syrupy quality to it - Peter vaguely aware that time has passed at all only when he slowly blinks his eyes open, his limbs feeling stiff and any sunlight from the windshield long gone.

The world around him feels dark as the snow storm continues to thunderously roar outside of the car. Peter sees the snow but doesn’t feel the cold anymore - his vision blurring a little even if a voice in the back of his mind tells him that this is bad, his eyes blinking a few times as he tries to keep them open.

He has to move - he _knows_ he has to move - but Peter finds that he can’t. The pull to sleep is stronger than anything he’s ever felt before, the storm almost lulling him back into the darkness that he’d been in just moments before. 

Peter feels a warmth washing over him, sinking further and further into himself, trying to hold his head up but finding he can’t - body slumping over as he rests against the bloodied driver’s side window, head tipping forward.

The last remnants of rationality tell him that he should try and move, that the comforting warmth he feels is just his mind playing a trick against him - the sense of danger he’d felt earlier still a low hum in the background. 

Peter can’t fight it any longer.

The storm outside fades into the distance as Peter feels his body relax one final time - closing his eyes and drifting into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony sighs, setting down his tablet only to swipe his good hand across his eyes with a groan. 

He turns to look out the window, but once again sees only darkness except where the porch light illuminates swirling snow caught in a fierce wind. 

It was supposed to be an uneventful weekend, both for Tony and for the weather. Yet here Tony sits-- restless and bored and grumpy as ever while outside a winter storm rages. 

Tony considers getting up to make himself a cup of coffee, only to dismiss it almost immediately. Normally when Pepper’s gone he can get away with the once-common indulgences he was no longer allowed in his recovery, but his shoulder had been especially bothering him today-- aching every time he moved to the point Tony had taken off his prosthesis twice just to check for any inflammation around the stub. The fact was, getting up off the couch just didn’t seem worth it unless absolutely necessary. 

Speaking of Pepper, Tony realizes it would only be about 5pm in California right now-- a good time to call and check in. Tony picks up his phone, thumb hovering in anticipation over Pepper’s contact information only for him to set it on the side table again, worried his sour mood would only bring her and Morgan down when they were supposed to be having fun camping and hiking in the Redwoods with Pepper’s parents and sister’s family. 

It was a trip that Tony had encouraged, reassuring Pepper he would be just fine on his own for a weekend-- both of them well aware he wasn’t anywhere near ready for the amount of physical activity that such an outing required. It had taken some convincing, but eventually Pepper had agreed.

Now, he found himself wishing he’d never pushed it in the first place. 

It wasn’t that Tony had been lying before-- he really had been truly content with being left behind at first. But as the trip neared and Tony had to watch from the sidelines as Morgan grew more and more excited - not to mention Pepper seeming almost a little _too_ relieved at the prospect of a weekend without having to harass Tony into taking his meds or doing his physical therapy exercises - it was hard not to think about how much he was missing out on. Had been missing out on for quite some time, in fact. 

It had been over a year since Tony had snapped away Thanos and his minions, but there were days when Tony felt it had only been weeks for how sore and weak his right side so often was. The healers in Wakanda had been optimistic but never unrealistic-- always stressing to Tony that his recovery would be long and arduous, and that he would likely never regain the strength he’d had prior to his injuries.

But only recently had the truth of their words really sunk in for Tony. This was his reality now, and while nobody had said it quite so plainly yet, Tony knew that he might be at the ceiling of his recovery. 

Looking down at his sleek prosthesis - forged from vibranium and custom-designed by Princess Shuri - Tony knew he was lucky that he had merely lost an arm and not his life. Yet even that thought didn’t always push away the frustration and pain.

Peter could always push those away though, Tony thinks with a small smile. Just hearing Peter’s voice was enough to brighten Tony’s mood no matter how dark it had been just moments before, and Tony lived for the kid’s visits to the lakehouse. He would never tire of seeing Peter alive, would never be anything but grateful that the kid was once more by his side-- someone he could once again laugh with, and smile proudly at, and hug with a fierceness only a parent’s love could manifest. 

Once upon a time, the idea of the word _parent_ being used to describe Tony’s relationship with Peter would have had Tony running for the hills. But now, with over five years of raising Morgan under his belt, Tony no longer denied it-- not to himself or Peter or anyone else. Peter was _his_ kid, just like he was May’s. And Tony would do anything to protect him and this unbelievable second chance they had all been gifted. 

Of course, that “anything” only stretched so far, Tony recalls with a sigh. He’d been completely useless during the incident with Beck, forced to stay on the sidelines while - in a surreal reversal of the norm - Happy had flown to Europe and taken care of Peter. 

The most Tony had been able to do was ensure that all of Beck’s fellow disgruntled former SI employees had been caught, FRIDAY easily destroying all their identifying footage of the kid.

By the time Tony had seen Peter again, he had not only leveled up his danger sense to a frankly terrifying degree but had also somehow managed to get himself a girlfriend in the midst of all the chaos-- Tony not having been present for any of it. 

Just like Tony wouldn’t be there for any of Peter’s milestones at MIT-- another thing Tony had encouraged until even Rhodey was telling him to lay off the kid and let Peter decide for himself. But Peter had been just as excited as Tony at the prospect of attending Tony’s alma mater, easily securing for himself an early admission spot that Tony was certain the kid would have gotten even without Tony’s recommendation letter.

But now - with only months left before Peter began a coveted summer on-campus internship - Tony was again selfishly regretting that he had encouraged yet another loved one to leave him behind, even as he knew it was the right thing to do. 

Because while Peter would always be Tony’s kid, he would all too soon no longer be an _actual_ kid. That change would inevitably mean a desire for more independence and a natural emotional distancing as Peter built around himself a loyal tribe of peers. 

Logically Tony knew that would happen whether or not Peter was in Queens, but all the same it already hurt to know Peter would no longer be available for visits like he was now-- the hurt compounded by Tony’s realization that he might never again be able to summon a suit and drop in on the kid himself. 

It’s these dark thoughts that twist around in Tony’s mind when his phone lights up, the refrain of _Don’t Stop Believin’_ chiming out from the device-- Tony’s ringtone for May Parker ever since she had confessed over a bottle of wine to being a Journey fangirl in her teens. 

With a smirk Tony picks up. “Why hello, May. To what do I owe the pleasure of--”

_“Tony. Is Peter with you?”_

Tony’s jaw clamps shut, his eyes instinctively roaming the empty cabin even as worry surges to the forefront of his mind. “No, is he supposed to be? I told the kid to stay in the city this weekend.”

He hears May let out a shaky breath over the line, pausing as if considering her next words very carefully. 

_“He’ll kill me for telling you if everything turns out to be fine, but-- oh, fuck it. Peter left right after school for the lakehouse. He promised he’d call me when he arrived and that should have been hours ago, and now his phone just keeps going to voicemail. You know how much I hate to hover but I’m-- I’m worried.”_

Tony’s brow furrows, his mind trying to compute that the kid is supposed to be here, with him-- that Peter wasn’t safe in Queens with May and taking a well-earned night off from patrolling, at least until the storm passed. 

At that thought Tony’s gaze darts back to the window, worry morphing into panic as he notes just how much snow has fallen in such a short amount of time-- the wind seeming to have somehow picked up speed as it breaks against the cabin in an ominous display of power.

“He didn’t think to wait until tomorrow? The storm--”

_“I know, I know. I told him it wasn’t a great idea but he insisted-- said the system was forecast to turn before it got far enough north. Damn it, I should have listened to my instincts… but he really wanted to surprise you.”_

Tony pushes down a surge of guilt even as he nods in determination. “Don’t worry, May. I’m-- I’m going to find him.”

Another pause, and Tony can almost hear the cogs in May’s brain working as she remembers he’s on his own-- that Pepper can’t go out in the Rescue suit in his stead. He wonders if she knows he hasn’t tried donning the suit even once since he came home from Wakanda.

_“Okay,”_ May finally says. _“Call me as soon as you’re both safe.”_

“Of course,” Tony grunts back, stomach jumping up his throat as he hangs up, adrenaline making his heart pound double-time. 

With a shuddering breath Tony climbs to his feet, trying to force his growing panic to stay seated behind him. He doesn’t have time to freak out, not when his kid is likely out there somewhere in the storm, lost or hurt or-- no, just lost or hurt. 

Tony won’t accept anything else. 

The throbbing pain in his shoulder and chest are all but forgotten as he makes his way to the basement door, quickly typing in the code to unlock it and racing down the stairs. Without slowing he pulls his nanite case out of its hidden safe and attaches it to his chest, pausing only long enough to take a deep breath before going back upstairs as fast as he can and flinging open the front door, snow immediately swirling at his feet.

With a tap to the case the suit engulfs him, Tony stopping only long enough to close the door before flying up and into the night, heading in the direction of the highway.

“Give me good news, baby girl,” he says to FRIDAY, knowing she’s likely three steps ahead of him.

_“I’m attempting to find the exact location of Peter’s cell phone signal, boss, however the storm is inhibiting my abilities.”_

Tony ignores the way his heart leaps at the announcement. He looks up and down at the deserted road as he flies above it, eyes scanning every ditch and tree as he traces the route toward the city. But there’s nothing but white on white. 

“Tap into EDITH for a better satellite signal if you have to. We need to find him.”

There’s silence for a good twenty seconds before FRIDAY says, _“I’ve got a location, boss. Peter Parker’s cell phone is located approximately eighteen miles south, between mile markers 89 and 90.”_

“Atta girl,” Tony says as he shoots off into the night, FRIDAY piloting the suit. Already the jostling of the suit is causing the throbbing heat in his shoulder to flare up, sharp needlepoints of pain piercing the weakened muscles there.

But Tony doesn’t let himself focus on that right now. Whatever further damage he does to himself tonight can be dealt with later, but Tony can’t say the same for Peter if he doesn’t get the kid to safety soon.

_This is all my fault,_ Tony thinks as the suit blasts through the storm, recalling his phone conversation with Peter only the day before-- knowing the kid well enough to pinpoint the exact moment Peter had decided to surprise him. 

* * *

_“You’re positive you don’t want some company, Mr. Stark? I can come up after school tomorrow if you want.”_

“Nah, kid,” Tony replied even as he had badly wanted to say yes-- knowing these kinds of impromptu weekend trips would be coming to an end far too soon. “You should stay in the city and hang out with your friends. Besides, don’t you have a date with Michelle planned for Saturday?”

_“Just a movie, and Ned’s coming along to so it’s not exactly a date. The two of them can just go, it’s not a big deal.”_

“You say that now Pete, but it won’t be very much longer and you’ll all be in different cities and wishing you hadn’t wasted one of these last high school weekends together on an old, feeble man,” Tony had said in response, hoping his voice hid his hesitancy when he added, “I’ll be just fine on my own, I promise.”

_“It wouldn’t be a waste,”_ Peter replied firmly, seeing right through Tony’s half-hearted attempts to joke. _“Are you really sure?”_

Peter had sounded so earnest - so open and willing to please - that Tony had paused, really considering the question.

It wasn’t until about ten seconds later that he had sadly smiled to himself, shaking his head as he said with a soft sigh, “I’m sure, underoos.”

There was silence between them, before Peter finally replied in a voice dripping with skepticism, _“Alright, if you say so.”_

* * *

Thinking back on the conversation, Tony of course knows he hadn’t been sure at all-- had waited to respond for so long that even if his tone _had_ somehow managed to mask his disappointment at turning Peter down, the kid almost certainly would have still seen through him. 

Tony also knows without a doubt that Peter had already made his mind up before letting the topic drop. Just like Pepper and Rhodey, Peter could always see what was in Tony’s heart, easily uncovered beneath his half-hearted insistences.

And like the selfish bastard he was, Tony knows a part of him had wanted exactly that outcome. He had _wanted_ Peter to recognize what Tony actually desired but wouldn’t outright ask for-- had counted on Peter’s exceedingly kind nature to do the hard work for him.And now Peter could be seriously hurt, or cold, even dying-- all because Tony couldn’t handle one damn weekend on his own.

Tony’s pulled out of his guilt spiral when the suit begins to descend toward the ground, Tony’s feet hitting pavement only for his faceplate to retract as he spins around, looking wildly in every direction but seeing only swirling snow. “Where is he, FRI?”

_“Ten o’clock, by the treeline.”_

Tony whips his head to the right and sure enough, buried under a few inches of snow sits a distinctly car-shaped mound-- the driver’s side smashed in against the trunk of a giant oak tree. 

“Peter!” Tony cries out, careening over only to land right beside the passenger side door, wiping away the snow from the window and peering inside with a helmet light.

The car is a twisted wreck of broken glass and jagged metal on the far side but Tony only has eyes for Peter-- Peter who is tucked up against the driver’s side door in nothing but a sweater and jeans, face a bloody mess and head hanging limply with his chin settled on his chest, not so much as flinching when Tony cries out his name again.

Tony is about to break open the front passenger door to extract the kid when he notices that Peter’s left leg looks to be stuck in the crumpled area under the steering wheel-- the point where the car directly impacted the tree, by the look of it. 

Without thinking he races over to the other side, ignoring the now-searing pain in his shoulder to push the car from the trunk just far enough for him to comfortably slide between the two.

Tony clamps down his panic at seeing all the blood coating the cracked window glass as with his good arm he wrenches the broken door open, Peter sagging out behind it-- his seat belt the only thing keeping him from tumbling out.

Tony quickly pulls at the debris by the kid’s foot until his leg comes free-- grateful it seems to merely have been wedged and not broken or mangled. Still panicking, he leans down and grabs at Peter’s nearest arm with one encased hand while the other cups the kid’s chin, raising his head toward Tony. 

To Tony’s dismay, Peter looks even worse up close. The parts of his face not covered in blood from a deep gash across his forehead are ashen, lips and lids a pale blue-- his overall pallor doing nothing to soothe Tony’s fears. 

Eyes wandering farther down, Tony gasps as he realizes he can’t detect even the slightest movement from Peter. The chest under his threadbare sweater appears still, and his body isn’t trembling like it should be from the cold. Peter’s been out here for hours-- how is he not shivering? 

_A sign of severe hypothermia or worse,_ a treacherous voice in the back of Tony’s brain supplies-- Tony closing his eyes and willing back tears at the thought.

He doesn’t dare to breathe as he chokes out in a broken voice, “FRI?”

It’s some of the longest seconds of his life as he waits for the AI’s reply, only for his panicking mind to go numb at her words.

_“No heartbeat detected, boss.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ducks and runs away_


	3. Chapter 3

_"No heartbeat detected, boss."_

Tony blinks, a moan escaping him even as his mind doesn’t fully process what FRIDAY is saying. The hand on Peter’s arm clenches at the kid’s bicep as Tony dumbly stares at the teen, lips parting and closing over and over.

_He can’t be dead, he_ can’t _be._

“N-no,” he finally stutters out, the word tasting like ash on his lips. “That-- that can’t be right. Check again.”

It’s another few seconds before FRIDAY replies in a low voice, _“I’m sorry, boss. He’s gone.”_

With that confirmation, the numbness in Tony’s mind recedes like a wave going back out to sea. And just like the sea erodes the beach, Tony feels a part of himself - a part that’s happy and content and full of hope for the future - being viciously ripped away along with it.

“No, no no,” Tony chants, letting Peter’s head drop down as he moves to tear at Peter’s seatbelt-- not even bothering to unclick it. As soon as the seat belt breaks Peter’s entire body slumps over, Tony readily catching the boy in his arms as Peter’s bloodied forehead lands on Tony’s bad shoulder. 

But even as the numbness left his mind, it had invaded his extremities-- Tony feeling no physical pain as he clutches desperately at Peter. Carefully he maneuvers the kid so he is cradled in Tony’s arms, Peter’s limp fingers leaving slivers in the snow as Tony twists him to face upward. 

“P-Peter?”

A large gust blows then, errant snowflakes getting caught in the congealed blood beneath Peter’s eyes and along his lashes. 

Gazing down at his kid, Tony can’t deny it-- Peter looks dead. 

_He looks dead, because he_ is _dead. You brought him back, only to lose him again due to your own selfishness._

“No, no. Peter,” Tony says as he sobs quietly-- the kid’s name a prayer on his tongue even as the tears nip bitterly at his cold cheeks. “Peter. _Peter.”_

_Please wake up. You have to wake up. I won’t survive losing you again if you don’t._

Then the wind dies down - a break between blows - and two things happen at the same time.

First, Tony watches in wide-eyed fascination as a slow but distinctly visible puff of air escapes from between Peter’s parted lips, lasting long enough that Tony is able to blink twice-- wanting to make absolutely certain that his teary eyes and dissenting mind aren’t conspiring to deceive him. 

Second, FRIDAY says, _“Heartbeat detected, but it’s incredibly slow, boss-- approximately two beats per minute. Based on tests and analysis conducted by Doctor Helen Cho in October 2017, the probable cause is suggested to be hibernation.”_

“Hibernation,” Tony repeats dumbly as he holds the kid closer-- willing Peter to breathe again, to give Tony another sign that beneath the eerie stillness there was still life. That beneath it all, Peter was still with him.

As if hearing his pleas, the kid lets out another breath, and just like that Tony’s despair morphs into sheer protectiveness-- a vital puzzle piece slotting right back into place in his mind. 

“Okay, uh, hibernation, that’s a new one… how do we treat it?”

_“In the event of Peter descending into a state of hibernation, Dr. Cho had hypothesized that any necessary treatment would be similar to that of a non-enhanced human suffering from moderate hypothermia. In layman’s terms, Peter needs to be slowly warmed up, at which point he will more than likely resume his normal circulatory rhythms.”_

“And he’ll wake up?”

_“As he has only a mild concussion, he should awaken soon after exiting the hibernating state.”_

“Okay, okay,” Tony distantly responds, only to huff out a relieved laugh as he grins down at Peter, eyes leaking again but for a far more welcome reason. “Shit, Pete. You can’t do that to me, kid. I’m an old man-- my heart can’t take it.”

Tony looks back up at the sky, noting that the storm hasn’t lessened in the least. “Okay, FRI-- where do I need to go? The compound? Tell me what to do here, baby girl.”

_“As the compound is nearly one hundred miles northeast, that is inadvisable in such inclimate weather. Peter should be safe to take directly back to the cabin. I have already increased the main floor thermostat to seventy-eight degrees, as well as turned on the gas fireplace in the den. All should be ready upon your arrival.”_

“You’re a gem, FRIDAY,” Tony says as with a groan he hoists himself up and his faceplate descends, Peter laying limp in his arms in a bridal carry.

_“Aw boss, you’re making me blush.”_

Tony chuckles perhaps a little too giddily at the bad joke - blaming it on mild shock - as he carefully takes off into the night sky, the most precious of cargo held securely to his chest. He soon relinquishes flight control to FRIDAY, content to stare down at Peter instead as the kid’s inhumanly slow yet steady vitals flash a calming blue in the corner of his viewscreen. Despite the reassurance of FRIDAY’s monitoring, Tony breathes out a sigh of relief when another puff of air exits from between Peter’s lips, only to be quickly lost to the wind. 

They’re not out of the woods yet, he knows-- not with Cho’s recommendations in an event such as this being based merely on best guesses. Not to mention Tony’s crippling guilt that will undoubtedly come back in full force as soon as Peter is sorted out-- and that’s not even including the likely damage Tony’s done to his already injured shoulder and torso.

But for now, Tony can’t help but revel in the deep, reassuring comfort of holding his very much alive kid in his arms. Because no amount of pain or frustration or weakness could possibly compare to the absolute heartbreak that Tony had felt for the few moments he had thought Peter dead. 

But no, Peter was alive. He _is_ alive. Tony hadn’t lost him again. 

And if Tony had anything to do with it, he never would.

* * *

The first thought in Peter’s mind when he awakes is _warm._

Then he feels a sharp tug on the skin of his forehead, and the thought switches abruptly to _ouch._

He tries to ask what’s going on, but all that comes out is a feeble, “Wha’s….”

The pull on his brow mercifully stops, and Peter hears the all-too-familiar sound of someone pulling off nitrile gloves before a hot hand cups his face.

“Peter? You awake?”

All Peter can muster in response is a tired, “M’hm.”

The person touching his face chuckles softly, thumbs rubbing gently across Peter’s cheekbones. “C’mon kid, open your eyes for me.”

It takes all of his effort, but eventually Peter manages to slit his eyes open, blinking a few times before everything came into focus.

“M’sr Stark?”

“There he is,” Tony replies with a soft, fond smile. “Damn kiddo, you really scared the crap out of me this time. How’re you feeling?”

Peter doesn’t respond right away, taking stock of his surroundings as he glances around. He’s wrapped up in what feels like ten blankets and lying on the den couch of the Stark cabin. The couch seems to have been moved forward so that it’s only four or five feet away from the fireplace, which is roaring away directly behind where Tony is perched on his knees in front of the couch, having now pulled his hands away from Peter’s face to rest in his lap.

As hard as Peter tries to remember how he got here, he can’t - the last thing he remembers being gripping the steering wheel and leaning forward as he drove down the highway. 

“Warm. And m’head kinda hurts. Wha’ happened?”

Tony frowns a little bit then, gaze sliding back to Peter’s forehead as he leans over once more, pulling the nitrile gloves back on before grabbing a needle and thread and waving them in front of Peter’s face.

“What happened is you decided it was a good idea to drive that junker of May’s upstate in the middle of a giant snow storm, kid, only to take a very abrupt pitstop into a tree.”

Peter frowns disconcertedly for a few seconds only for his eyes to widen at the memory of the tree rushing up to meet him, the dizziness when he’d finally opened his eyes and how the cold faded away the longer he was sitting there. 

It’s not until he winces again when he feels the sadly familiar pull of a thread being stitched across his forehead that he is pulled back into the present. He glances up at Tony only to see the man calmly focusing on the wound just above Peter’s eyes, but he can see the deep weariness and clear concern on his mentor’s face all the same. 

It’s only then that he registers the nanite case still attached to Tony’s chest. 

“You-- you came and got me? By yourself?” he asks, tone just a few shades shy of accusatory.

Tony pauses in his work, looking affronted. “I’m injured, not dead.”

Peter frowns, eyes narrowing as he says, “But Tony, you know you’re supposed to-- you can’t…”

Tony seems to catch on to Peter’s use of his first name but dismisses it.

“I can’t do what? Go save my kid when he’s hurt and doing a hell of a good popsicle impression?” Tony asks, face serious even if his tone is light. “Pete, you oughta know by now-- there’s nothing I won’t do to protect you, or Morgan, or anyone else I love. Not while I’m still kickin’, anyway.

“And besides,” Tony adds, Peter’s eyes scrunching as he feels another tug, “It’s not so bad. I’m stitching you up right now, aren’t I? Clearly I’m at least three or four levels above an invalid.”

Peter rolls his eyes half-heartedly, no less worried despite Tony’s dismissive attitude. “You say that now, but you’re going to regret it tomorrow morning when you wake up and your shoulder is all seized.”

Tony’s movements don’t halt, but Peter doesn’t miss the way his jaw clenches all the same.

“No, I won’t regret it,” Tony finally says, voice low. ”You don’t get it, Pete. I thought you were _dead.”_

Peter’s face - already pink from how warm and toasty he is - turns bright red at that, and if it weren’t for Tony’s ministrations he’d have hung his head in shame. 

He should’ve listened to May, not only ruining the surprise he’d originally planned but worse, undoubtedly causing Tony to hurt himself trying to save him - something that Peter hated even thinking of, considering how close they’d all come to losing him. 

Peter could still remember those tense nights, waiting to hear back from the doctors in Wakanda about Tony’s recovery. The very thought causes his fingers to twitch underneath the mountain of blankets he has over him - hating that his own reckless decision to drive out in the snow might have hurt Tony’s chances of retaining the limited mobility he has now. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” he says finally, tears gathering. “I just wanted to surprise you, and now-- it’s all gone to shit and your recovery is probably set back for _months_ and-and it’s all my fault.”

Tony sighs sadly but doesn’t otherwise respond. The two of them sit in silence for a few more minutes while Tony finishes up the stitches and Peter stares at the fire, trying to blink back the wetness around his eyes.

This wasn’t what Peter had intended, the guilt creeping down his spine at the idea that he’d be the reason for setting Tony’s recovery back anymore than it already was, even if Peter can see from the expression on Tony’s face that he seemed to look just as guilty - though for what, Peter didn’t know. 

“All done,” Tony finally announces - breaking the silence with a hushed tone, setting down the needle before peeling off the gloves once more. 

Only then does he look at Peter, his expression colored with guilt and remorse - something that Peter still doesn’t understand. 

“I should be the one apologizing, Pete. You never would have felt like you had to come up here in the first place if I hadn’t been so damn needy.”

Peter chews the inside of his cheek, immediately wanting to dismiss Tony’s words but seeing the look in his eyes and thinking better of it - the two of them understanding that Tony was speaking the truth.

He _had_ initially chosen to surprise Tony for that reason, remembering all too well how he had sounded on the phone. But that wasn’t the _only_ reason, thinking back to his conversation with May before he’d left. 

The world still felt like it was adjusting to the five years that they’d lost and while Peter hadn’t consciously thought that they needed to, a part of him recognized that even if they’d fallen into a new rhythm with each other - a comfortable one - that that delicate balance was all about to be upended with his upcoming move. 

Peter shakes his head slightly, wincing at the motion from the stitches before saying, “You’re not the only one who’s a little needy, Mr. Stark.” 

Tony sighs, only to roll his eyes fondly. “If that’s your indirect way of saying this is all on you, well-- that’s bullshit, kid. I was throwing a pity party with you on the phone and I should’ve known better-- should’ve never put that kind of expectation on you to come and try and cheer me up when--”

“You’re not listening to me, Tony,” Peter says, using his first name again more forcefully - knowing it’ll grab his attention. 

It does, his head snapping up as his expression changes from guilt to confusion as Peter continues, “I’m not saying you didn’t sort of-- count on me coming, or whatever. But also-- I _wanted_ to come.”

Tony closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhales, his hand shaking slightly before he brings it down - staring into Peter’s eyes.

“You could’ve died, Pete. And I can’t-- I can’t lose you again.”

Peter doesn’t blink, putting all his determination into his words. “But I _didn’t._ I’m okay, Mr. Stark. And like I said, it’s not all on you. I _wanted_ to come.”

“Kid--”

“Just listen to me,” Peter says, frustration welling up. “I know all this has been hard on you and I know you’re not at your best lately all the time about it, okay? I’m not saying you’re-- perfect, or whatever. In fact, you’re kind of downright _curmudgeonly_ sometimes. A pain in the ass, even.”

“Damn, kid. Tell me how you really feel,” Tony says, a mock look of hurt on his face before both he and Peter chuckle at the same time, smiling softly.

“I know it seems like I just did this to make you happy-- and that was part of it, sure, ” Peter presses on as he bites his lip, feeling vulnerable and blinking a few times. “But-- I think I might have come anyway? Because I’m gonna be moving out of the city in a few months and I don’t even really get to see you _now_ as much as we used, and I…”

Peter trails off, trying to find the words before finally settling on, “I still miss it sometimes, you know? When things were easier, like how it used to be, before…”

Tony’s silence causes Peter to shift his gaze back towards Tony’s - relieved to see understanding in his eyes. “I’m listening, kid.”

Peter gives a slight smile in gratitude, only to bite his lip thoughtfully. “It’s like, things are only just starting to feel kind of normal again, but I’m about to lose that too and soon I’ll have to like, _adult_ and stuff-- not to mention going to yet _another_ school where everyone is insanely smart and driven…”

Tony’s face falls. “Kid, if MIT isn’t right, you can still--”

“No, that’s not what I meant! I’m really excited about going, seriously,” Peter interrupts, realizing how his words must have come across to Tony. “MIT is— it was a dream for so long and getting that summer campus internship is incredible. And I _am_ excited about getting to be out on my own too. There are-- there’s a lot of stuff I’m excited about.”

Peter sighs, smiling as he looks off into the distance. “Like MJ, I mean— she’s great, Mr. Stark. I know I haven’t really brought her around much but—“

Tony smiles more genuinely this time, a softer expression on his face as he puts a hand up before saying, “Pete, you don’t have to explain. I get it, I was seventeen once too.”

Peter smirks at that, burrowing himself farther under the blankets. “What, like back in the dark ages?”

“Ha ha,” Tony deadpans, rolling his eyes but his facial features relaxing, folding his arms as he stared at Peter-- Peter getting the feeling it was his turn to wait for Tony to compile this thoughts.

“I get it, underoos,” Tony finally replies with a thick voice, only to clear his throat and blow out a long breath. “I miss how much easier things used to be too. But the thing is-- I don’t think it’s _ever_ gonna go back to how it used to be, kid. But, see-- that’s a _good_ thing.”

Tony leans over, brushing a stray curl away before it can brush Peter’s stitches. “I’m so proud of you, Pete. All that’s happened in the past year, getting into college, dating, graduation coming up…“

Tony trails off, only to smile softly to himself.

“I know I might seem _curmudgeonly_ about it - and everything else - sometimes. But deep down I wouldn’t change any of this - not one damn part of it - if it meant going back to before. If-- if it meant I didn’t get to watch you grow up,” Tony says, looking back up at Peter with watery eyes only to shake his head. “That’s something I _never_ thought I’d get to see, after…”

Peter catches the brief but sharp flash of guilt-ridden grief that passes over Tony’s face, a reminder that even if they’d been united for over a year that the five years they’d lost were never far from Tony’s mind. 

May always used to tell him that he and Tony were like two peas in a pod, Peter thinking that for as much as Tony mentioned Peter’s own guilt complex that the man couldn’t see his own - feeling responsible for something that Peter had decided out of his own free will.

Which brought Peter back to the matter at hand, his lips twisting into a smirk as he lightly says, “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that while I know coming up here in a bad blizzard wasn’t my smartest decision--”

“One of the worst ones you’ve ever had, something you will not _ever_ be doing again,” Tony interjects, clearing his throat and wiping at his eyes before crossing his arms and pinning Peter with a _just-try-me_ look before letting it drop and nodding his head. “But I hear you. It was your decision, you wanted to do it, yada yada.”

Just as Peter’s about to argue he adds, “I get it, Pete. I’m still going to feel guilty as hell about it, though.”

Peter debates how much further he wants to go with this when he’s distracted by a bead of sweat across Tony’s forehead, Tony absentmindedly wiping it away before Peter frowns.

“What? You okay?” Tony asks, immediately perking up as his eyes dance across Peter’s face. “Do you need--”

“Why are you sweating?” Peter asks, finally recognizing how close they were to the fire - how unbearably warm Tony must be, sitting with his back towards it as he stares at Peter in exasperation. 

“I had to get you warm, FRI said you went into hibernation and I--”

“ _Hibernation_?” Peter exclaims incredulously, a familiar and long-suffering sigh escaping Tony as he continues, “What like-- like a bear?”

“More like a genetically modified radioactive spider,” Tony deadpans, Peter rolling his eyes in response. 

“You’d think by now I’d be used to all of this but wouldn’t you know,” Tony says with a grin, “you still find ways to surprise me.”

“So you _were_ surprised,” Peter jokes, only for Tony’s face to immediately form a frown. 

“No. Not funny, you don’t get to joke about this yet.”

“Okay, okay,” Peter relents, going to move the blankets off of himself only for Tony to forcefully push them back down.

“Mr. Stark--”

“Kid, if you so much as even _think_ of moving out of those blankets--”

“You look like you’re about to pass out from heat exhaustion,” Peter says definitively, deftly moving his hands out of the covers as Tony frowns. “Besides, if May’s car was really that messed up then you probably _way_ overexerted yourself.”

Peter nods towards the shoulder that Tony’s prosthesis is attached to, “You need to do your stretches before it tenses up.”

“What, you get into MIT and suddenly you’re an expert?” Tony jokes, passing it off as he waves his hand around only for Peter to see the awkward way he winces - knowing he’s right even if Tony tries to hide it. 

“Besides kid, gotta take care of you first. I mean hibernation? What the hell is the limit on your powers here? And we’re for damn sure getting you _both_ new cars, I already called May and she agrees, vibranium encasing and Karen hardwired into the system though,” he rolls his eyes, “might have to do some tweaks considering how abysmal of a weather forecaster she is.” 

Peter smiles before his face turns into something more serious, staring into Tony’s eyes when he says, “Fine, but only as long as _you_ agree not to pull any more stupid stunts like flying out in the suit in the middle of a snow storm when you could badly reinjure yourself.”

Tony looks like he wants to argue, going to say something only to stop when Peter frowns and adds softly, “I can’t lose you either.”

Tony stares into his eyes for a beat before nodding, an understanding flowing between the two of them as Tony gently smiles, bringing his hand up to pat Peter's shoulder.

“We’ll take care of each other, how about that?”

“Even when I’m all the way in Boston?” Peter asks before he can stop himself.

Tony waves his good arm dismissively. “I’m Tony Stark, kid. I solved _time_ travel. Teleportation? That’s child’s play. Give me a few months and I’ll have it figured out.”

At Peter’s soft chuckle, Tony adds, “And even if I don’t, then we’ll figure out something else. But either way you’re stuck with me-- which means no sending me to voicemail when in a few months you get tired of me bothering you all the time. I may have drunk my way through freshman year but I remember that part, at least. So you could be in Timbuktu for all I care— you’re always gonna be my kid and that’ll never change.”

Tony puts his good arm out. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Peter says with a grin, shaking Tony’s hand. 

The warmth from the fire can’t compare to the warmth that Peter feels in his heart, solid in the knowledge that Tony’s right - that the distance between them didn’t have to change anything.

They had lost five years, but it didn’t matter - not when they had a lifetime ahead of them. 

The thought of that makes Peter smile wider as he said, “Though in the unlikely event you _don’t_ invent a real life transporter-- maybe I should stop taking surprise trips anyway? Makes for a very _frigid_ welcome.”

“Still not funny,” Tony grumbles, Peter laughing as his grin turns cheeky.

“Man, you really gotta learn how to _chill_ out, Mr. Stark.”

“One more joke like that and I’m tossing you out in the snow-- let you go back to super-sleep mode so I can get some actual peace and quiet again."

“You would _never.”_

“Try me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Or come hang out with us on tumblr: [blondsak](https://blondsak.tumblr.com) and [seekrest](https://seek-rest.tumblr.com).


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